


Homecoming

by rutherfords (seblaiens)



Series: Homecoming [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Infidelity, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10483044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seblaiens/pseuds/rutherfords
Summary: He might be her dad, but he's not her father.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majoralenkos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majoralenkos/gifts).



> World state and OC's belong to harrysflynn on tumblr.

Lilith can’t lie still, tossing and turning as Anders sleeps beside her. The bed they’re sleeping in is hard, the mattress lain through by the many people who had slept on it before. It’s the cheapest room they could find outside of Wildervale - they’re trying to avoid big cities, out of fear of either of them being recognised. Where they’re going, Lilith still doesn’t know. Antiva, maybe, then head up to Rivain. Isabela has some contacts that could help them disappear - if they even made it that far.

She puts her hand on her belly, stroking over the soft curve of her abdomen. She looks at the man who’s lying next to her, who is not the father of her baby. Couldn’t be, not with the Warden’s taint flowing through his body, making any dreams Anders had ever had of becoming a father practically impossible.

Lilith pretends it’s a miracle. Anders accepts her lies in the wake of him having withheld the truth about something much bigger. In truth, she cries when she can’t sleep, while Anders does it when he’s alone. They accept her infidelity and they move on, and Anders never asks who the father is. He has his suspicious, will find out if he’s right when the child is born, but he doesn’t feel as though he would run back and try to kill whoever had lain their hands on Hawke. She chose him in the end, and she’s happy enough pretending that the child belongs to him.

He’s good at pretending as well. 

*

They call her Amber because of her eyes, bright gold from the moment she is born. Her pale skin throws Anders for a loop - every possible man he had thought could be the little girl’s father is suddenly out of the question. Instead, Amber looks a lot like him, right down to the blonde hair that’s just a shade darker than his own, but doesn’t have any hints of ginger. He lets himself believe it is truly his daughter and holds her close against his chest as she cries, kissing the top of her head to calm her down and let her mother sleep for just one whole night. 

They’re making their way to Weisshaupt Fortress, having turned around halfway through Antiva because Lilith doesn’t want to run away anymore, and the Grey Wardens had helped them before. They couldn’t stay on the run with a newborn, needed somewhere safe for the little one to grow up. Weisshaupt seems as good as any option - the Wardens wouldn’t kill Anders for what he’d done, because many are criminals themselves. Amber would grow up without any children to play with in the fortress, but maybe she could attend a school in a nearby village and make friends there. He’d hate for his daughter to grow up without having anyone to play with because of her parents decisions - she deserves so much more than that. 

She deserves the world, Anders decides as he holds out his hands to his daughter, who is wobbly standing on her legs, holding onto a chair before trying to take a step into her father’s’ direction. She falls but doesn’t cry, instead just gurgles and crawls over so Anders can pick her up.

“Dada,” she says, her little hand coming up to grab Anders’ nose. 

“I love you,” he whispers into her ear, making the baby squeal because of the feeling of his breath so close to her skin.

*

Lilith leaves when Amber is barely three years old, the toddler crying in her mother's arms because she doesn’t understand why mommy and daddy are fighting, raising their voices to be heard over the other. Anders doesn’t want to let her go - she has responsibilities here, needs to raise their daughter. Anders knows how high the chances are of her never returning, and he doesn’t want to have to explain to Amber where her mother is as she gets older. 

“I don’t care how many letters Varric sends you,” Anders spits, his arms crossed in front of his chest, “you need to stay and raise your child. Does he even know you have a family to answer for?” 

“He does,” Lilith says, scowling at him. “I told him before you, actually.”

She’s gone by the morning, and it takes only a few hours before Amber starts asking for her and whining when Anders tells her that mommy will be gone for a while.

He gets a letter from Varric a few months later, addressed to Blondie and Blondie Jr., telling him that Lilith won’t be returning at all. He tries to explain to Amber what death means, but she’s still too young to fully grasp the concept, so he keeps it to vague terms. Mommy is gone, and she won’t be back. No, it’s not because she doesn’t love you or daddy anymore, she’s not in this world anymore. 

Anders feels like it would be easier to explain using religion, but he feels as though he lost that privilege long ago. 

*

Amber grasps the concept as she gets older. She asks about Lilith frequently, and Anders tries his best to stay as true to Lilith as he possibly can. He doesn’t tell how cold their relationship had become after Kirkwall, and he never mentions that he’s not her biological father. Lilith wouldn’t want that, and there’s no reason for Amber to doubt that Anders sees her as his daughter. She’s him, through and through - a powerful mage, though her skills don’t lie in creation but in fire. She’s more her mother, in that regard, though Anders tries to shield her from the darker ways of how Lilith had become so powerful. 

She’s a teenager when she really begins understanding who her parents are, the Tale of the Champion in her hands one day when Anders walks into the library. How it had gotten here, he doesn’t know - he’s made sure no copy of it ever found it’s way inside Weisshaupt Fortress. Yet there it is, over half of the pages read already. With some luck, she wouldn’t have gotten to the part Anders never had mentioned yet, but he knows if he took the book away now, she would find another way. So he lets Amber read, and when she doesn’t talk to him for days afterwards, he tries to accept it. 

His little redemption, grown up enough to build her own opinions on what her father had done back then, in what feels like another lifetime. 

“I still love you,” she says one night when they’re lying together on Anders’ bed, on top of the covers without their bodies touching. If he closes his eyes, he could imagine Lilith here, saying these words - their voices are so similar. “I understand why you did it. It doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do.”

“I’ve spent years thinking about it,” Anders replies. “There’s nothing to be done, now.”

“It’s weird, reading about mum like that,” Amber continues. “It’s as though she’s not even a real person.”

“I wish you two could have had more time together.”

They’re quiet for a while, listening to the sounds coming into the room from outside, drunk Wardens stumbling around on the courtyard, singing folk songs. Amber’s still too young to drink, in his opinion, though some of the men sneak her ale sometimes, laughing when Amber takes a sip and grimaces at the bitter taste. She’ll grow to like it, they say, but she doesn’t believe them. 

“Are you my real father?” 

Anders’ heart stops. “What?”

“I heard some of the others talking, about how Grey Warden’s can’t have children,” Amber says, twisting her hands in front of her stomach. “The book never mentioned mum being with someone else, but there must be-”

“Amber,” Anders says, reaching over to take his daughters hands in his, “Amber…”

“You’re not, aren’t you?” 

“Amber… Of course you are my daughter. You were our miracle baby.”

She looks skeptical, but Anders squeezes her hands and she nods, accepting his words. She’s growing up too quickly, living here, where every week there is another Grey Warden hearing his or her Calling and leaving to go down in battle. They say goodbye to her sometimes, now that she understands death. She’s the only child around, and they like her a lot more than they do Anders. Then again, they’ve also liked Lilith a lot more than him - it has less to do with them being charming than him being… not so much. They might all be criminals, but there are still degrees of cruelty.

*

Amber is only seventeen when her father tells her that he’s dying. Anders is hearing his calling, signaling the end of his life, and when he tells her, Amber cries for two hours straight. He holds her through it, telling her that she’s strong and that she doesn’t need him anymore - she’s almost an adult now, anyway. Still, it does nothing to lessen the heartache or dull the feeling of loss. She’s already lost her mother, and now she is to lose her father as well. 

“I’ve sent a letter to your Uncle Varric,” Anders mumbles into her hair as he holds her. “He’s viscount of Kirkwall now. You can live with him, if you don’t want to stay here.”

Amber nods and cries even harder. She doesn’t want to stay here, where everything would remind her of her father, where everyone would look at her with pity in their eyes because they’ve known her since she was a baby. She’s never left Weisshaupt Fortress before - maybe it’s time for her to see the world.

She leaves before Anders does, because he doesn’t want her to be alone for even one day. She travels with a merchant who is on his way to the Free Marches, and after bribing him with all the coin Anders has to spare, he promises him that Amber will land in Kirkwall safely. The rest of his money he gives to his daughter - he won’t need it anymore. It’s not a big fortune, but it should help her the first few weeks until she’s found a job that would provide a steady income for her.

“Don’t tell anyone who your parents are,” he says with a heavy heart the day she leaves, her backpack filled with what little she owns. Clothes mostly, a few books. Nothing to would identify her as daughter of the Champion of Kirkwall, or the man who started the mage rebellion. Anders never quite got a fancy title people call him by - she’s heard people try to avoid mentioning him outside of these walls. “Remember that we love you, little one.”

“I’m not little anymore,” Amber sighs. She hasn’t been little since she found out the truth. 

“You’ll always be my baby girl.” Anders smiles, stroking his hands through Amber’s blonde curls before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Your mother would be so proud of you.”

_ Would she?  _ Amber wants to ask. She’s not sure what she should think of her mother, not after all the things she found out about her. The blood magic, siding with Orsino and letting her father live after the explosion at the Chantry. Maybe when she’s in Kirkwall she can make up her mind, find peace in her father's’ absence. 

*

Varric treats her like the niece he never had, tells her about Lilith when she asks about her. He sticks to light-hearted stories, tells her about the time Lilith spent in Kirkwall before everything had gone to shit. They were good friends, best friends, and Amber fees more sorrow for the dwarf than for herself. He can actually remember her, unlike Amber, whose only memories aren’t even real, but things Anders had repeated so often that they’ve somehow become a picture in Amber’s head. 

He rarely mentions Anders, and when he does, Varric calls him ‘Blondie,’ as if he wants to distance himself from the man known as Anders now. Amber feels angry sometimes, wants to scream and yell at him that her father had been a good man, that he doesn’t deserve this treatment after his death. But Varric is such a big help to her, lets her stay in the Amell mansion in Hightown because technically she’s one of the few surviving Amell’s. She might not go by that last name now, but she’s been thinking about switching it back. Amber Hawke just didn’t have as much of a nice ring to it as Amber Amell had. 

The mansion is just opposite the mansion the former Inquisitor owns, Varric mentions once. She rarely comes to Kirkwall, though when she does, she brings her husband and her child. Amber doesn’t know much about Dahlia Lavellan besides the things history books tell her - Varric much rather talks about Lilith. They were closer, Amber figures, had known each other for a much longer time than Varric had known Dahlia. He still speaks about her fondly, even though she is the woman who had condemned Lilith Hawke to an early death. Amber admires him for the fact that he doesn’t yearn vengeance. 

She’s not sure she would be as forgiving in Varric’s position.

“Why did they call me Amber?” she asks Varric one day after he tells her about how Anders and Lilith had gotten together, only begrudgingly talking about it after Amber had begged him to talk of her parents.

“They’re the colour of your father's eyes,” Varric says, and Amber remembers how desperate Anders had sounded when she had asked about her real father. It still stings, hearing so openly that her biological father is not the man who had raised her, and she disappears for a few days, not wanting to talk to anybody, least of all Varric. 

When she reemerges from her estate, she decides that it doesn’t matter. She has no idea who her father is, and she will never ask Varric about it. If he hadn’t come to find her by now, he’d never come. 

*

Dahlia Lavellan visits Kirkwall with her family one summer, and Amber watches them from across the courtyard. She wants to hate this woman, but as she watches her dance around with her daughter, she can’t find it in herself to despise her for making a hard decision. It’s hard for her spin around her daughter with only one arm, and Amber admires her for not covering up the thing that marks her as damaged. It’s what stands out most about her, besides her elven ears and her curly, red hair. Amber understands why people talk about her beauty - she’s stunning.

Her daughter doesn’t look anything like her. Amber thinks that little Freyja must be how she had looked like when she was younger, blonde curls flying everywhere. She looks human, and Amber understands why when she sees Dahlia steal a kiss from a handsome, blond man in leather armour. 

Varric introduces him as Cullen Rutherford, former Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, and a  _ special friend _ of her mother's. His eyes are Amber, like her name.

*

She sees her begetter, the man her mother found solace in after her father had murdered so many innocent people, and she’s not sure how to feel. Guilty, for wanting to get to know the man who knew nothing of her existence until now. Angry, because he hadn’t recognised her as his daughter, even though Amber looks exactly like Freyja, looks exactly like  _ him _ . Varric had said both of her last names, waiting for the man to put two and two together, but his facial expression hadn’t changed, no sign of recognition in those amber eyes. 

Varric doesn’t talk to her about it, even though he knows  _ she knows _ . At night, she lies in bed thinking of him, of how the Knight-Captain in the book had been the man her mother had turned to after her father’s betrayal. She feels angry at her, having turned to a _ Templar _ , of all people. Amber goes through her belongings and finds the copy of Tale of the Champion she had brought from the Anderfels, perusing the book to find any mention of Cullen’s name.  _ Mages aren’t people like you and me _ , he had said, and Amber clenches her fists as tears sting in her eyes. She misses her _ father _ , who had taught her how to control her magic after the first time she had accidentally set fire to a curtain. To think that, in reality, she is the daughter of a Templar, not just any Templar - the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall’s daughter… 

She curls into bed and reads the tale again, grabbing a pencil to underline and mark every page Cullen is mentioned on. She circles the passages where he talks to her mother, and the farther she gets into the book, the more conflicted her feelings become. Cullen stands at her mother's side in the end, and Amber asks herself if that’s before or after she had been conceived. After, she decides - her mother seems as surprised in the book as Amber had been when she had read it for the first time, the usually so duty-driven Templar switching sides and standing up against his Knight-Commander. Is that what her mother had seen in him?

Amber falls asleep with the book clutched against her front, wishing her mother and her father had just been normal people - and she means  _ Anders _ , the man who had raised her, who never held her mother’s mistakes over her. She wonders if Lilith had even felt remorse when she had left him, or if she had been happy to leave them both behind. Hawke is an enigma she doesn’t understand, and she avoids thinking about her because the more she does, the less she likes her mother. 

*

Cullen is holding up his daughter, setting her on the railing of a stone wall so the little girl can look over all of Kirkwall. He keeps a tight grip on her, probably afraid she would slip and fall, pointing into the distance and talking to her. Probably telling her about Kirkwall’s history - maybe telling her where the Chantry had been before the mage rebellion. A new Chantry is being built now, and Amber works in the gardens. Her father had fallen on deaf ears most of the time when trying to teach her healing magic, but she knows enough to make dead flowers bloom again

Amber can’t look away from the scene in front of her, sees herself mirrored in Freyja and Anders in Cullen. If her father hadn’t been a Grey Warden, it would have been so easy to pretend that Amber hadn’t been his biological daughter; Cullen’s hair is blond as well, his skin pale, and only his eyes are different from Anders’. That liquid golden colour that had make him stand out to Amber right away, instead of the kind, dark brown she had grown up with.

“Did you love my mother, Varric?” she asks that night when she’s over at Varric’s house, afraid she would do something stupid like go over to Lavellan’s mansion and knock until her father opened the door and let her in to meet his new, normal family with no history of magical abilities. 

“I don’t know a person who didn’t love your mother, kid.”

“I do. My father.” 

Varric looks confused. “Anders loved her _ and you _ more than anything.”

“I know that. I meant my real one.”

She sees Varric’s expression change to something dark, a hint of bitterness she can’t attribute to anything. He had spent so much time around Cullen, in Kirkwall and during the Inquisition, and according to their interactions they seemed to at least be on friendly terms. Amber wonders if he sees Cullen as an instrument in her mother’s death, even though the blame lies solely on Dahlia Lavellan. The woman Amber can’t bring herself to hate, because she had done so much good in the world, sided with the mages even though she isn’t one herself. Without her, Amber might be stuck in a Circle now, and she might have never known Anders in the way she did.

“You know who he is?” Varric asks after a few moments of silence. 

“Knight-Captain Cullen, from the books.” Amber blinks a few times, then clears her throat. “Commander Cullen of the Inquisition. It’s foolish of you to think I wouldn’t have figured it out. We have the same eyes.”

“You do.” Varric smiles sadly, pouring her and himself generous mugs of ale. She likes it now, though the taste still makes her nose wrinkle when she drinks it too slowly. “Cullen doesn’t know you're his daughter. He never knew Lilith was pregnant.”

“When did it… happen?” 

“After everything else happened. She went to tell him she would be leaving Kirkwall together with Anders - too dangerous for them both to stay. She didn’t tell me more.”

Amber imagines them standing in a dark alley, dust settling around them from the Chantry’s explosion while her mother desperately held onto Cullen, trying to feel something to dull the numbness in the wake of Anders’ lies. In reality, it probably hadn’t been as dramatic as Amber is making it out to be in her head. In Cullen’s office, probably, her mother thanking him for choosing to stand by her side in more than one way. 

“Do you think I should talk to him?”

“To Curly?” Varric chuckles. “If you want to destroy his life. He’d drop everything to make up for his absence in your life.”

“So you don’t think I should talk to him.”

“It’s your decision, kid. But I think, give him a few days. He’ll figure it out on his own, and if he doesn’t believe himself to be able to be a father to you, he won’t mention it. Less heartbreak that way.”

*

Dahlia watches her intently, and Amber knows she’s onto her when her eyes dart from her own daughter to Amber and back, trying to find differences that aren’t there. They look like the siblings they are. Amber wonders if Dahlia had known that Lilith was a mother - they had worked together for quite a while, and from what Varric had said, they had gotten along well. If Lilith had ever mentioned Cullen to Dahlia, Varric hadn’t been sure. Lilith and Cullen had avoided each other as much as possible in their time together at Skyhold according to him - Amber doesn’t believe him. If Cullen had felt no remorse fucking Lilith while she had been with Anders, she doesn’t see why he wouldn’t cheat on Dahlia to rekindle an old flame. 

She finds Amber while she is working in the gardens at the new Chantry, telling Freyja to go find the most beautiful flower so they can be alone. Amber tries to ignore her until she’s spoken to - there’s no reason for her to think that the Inquisitor has visited the gardens because of her.

“You’re Hawke’s daughter, right?” 

“Yes,” Amber answers, politely but curt. She pushes back her blonde hair and blinks against the sun when she looks up at Lavellan, her red hair looking like flames in the light. It’s funny how her daughter looks nothing like her, but Amber figures it’s the elf genes - she’s heard elf-blooded children rarely look like their elven parent.

“She mentioned you a few times,” Dahlia says, waving to Amber when she sits down on a bench near to where Amber had been working. “Told me you were staying with your father while she was gone.”

“With Anders, yes. He’s dead now.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been hard to lose what little family you had left. I wish I could help.”

She’s baiting her, Amber knows. She could say something now, mention Cullen, and Dahlia would accept her, not as her own, but as a responsibility she needs to look out for. Not only because Cullen is her father, but because she’s the reason Amber is an orphan. 

“There’s no way you could help,” Amber says, staring right back into Dahlia’s forest green eyes. “Varric is looking out for me.” 

“That’s nice of him.” 

Amber nods, then excuses herself to go back to tending to the garden. She’s keenly aware of Dahlia’s eyes on her back when she crouches down again, tending to brown grass that had died due to the high temperatures of Kirkwall’s summers. She hears the fall of little footsteps coming to a halt next to her, as Freyja peers over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” the little girl asks, wrinkling her nose.

  
Amber needs to clear her throat before she can talk, keeping her gaze straight to not have to look at her sister. “I’m helping the grass grow again.”

“How?”

“With magic.”

“Ohh,” Freyja seems interested, watching as the grass beneath Amber’s palms turns green again and stands up. “Some of mommy’s friends are mages as well. Daddy’s best friend is a mage!”

“Really?” Amber asks, wiping at her face as her nose starts dripping. 

“Yes, but he doesn’t come to visit often. He lives far away.”

“Freyja,” Dahlia’s voice interrupts them, “we’re leaving now, daddy’s going to be home soon.”

Amber keeps her head low as mother and daughter leave her behind, silently crying, glad that nobody else seems to be around. She stays until night fall, until the heat of the day is replaced by humid darkness, and the mosquitoes become too active for her to stay any longer. Only then does she heave herself up to stumble back home and fall into a dreamless sleep. 

*

If their talk has anything to do with how Cullen’s behavior changes around her, she doesn’t know. Amber doesn’t think Dahlia would have told him, but one thing is for sure; Cullen is now aware of her, and he guiltily lowers his gaze any time she catches him looking at her. She understands - she’s the mage child he never wanted, a  relic of a time he had left behind in Kirkwall so many years ago. 

Even now they don’t talk, even though they have a lot of excuses they could use. He’d known Hawke for a long time, and he’d known Anders as well. But Amber still isn’t sure if she wants to talk to him - sure he’s changed, he’s not the stoic Knight-Captain anymore, but there had been a time where he’d been that person. For him to suddenly have to face the past like that - it can’t be easy for him either. 

She sees how guilty he feels whenever he interacts with Freyja and Amber is around, be it in Varric’s house or in passing when they see each other in Hightown. He loses his smile when he notices she’s around, and he clutches his daughter even closer, as if he’s scared Amber would rip her out of his arms if she got too close. Amber laughs at the idea, but it still hurts to see Cullen holding a little girl that could have just as likely been her. Had things been different, had her mother not spared Anders so many years ago, maybe she would have grown up with two parents, instead of having to watch a strange family that only exists because she  _ didn’t _ , at least in Cullen’s life.

They’re leaving in a few days, going back to Ferelden. Once again, Amber isn’t sure how she’s supposed to feel about that. Glad that she won’t have to see him every day, or upset because he hadn’t even tried to talk to her, even if it wasn’t about their relationship. 

She stands to overlook Kirkwall where Cullen had stood with Freyja just a few days ago, trying to figure out what he had been trying to show his daughter, when he stops next to her, leaning his elbows onto the stone wall. Amber only looks at him fleetingly before looking back at the horizon, where the sky meets the sea. 

“I was just a little bit older than you when I came to Kirkwall,” Cullen says. “It still looks the same. A few more renovated houses they had to patch up after the rebellion. Varric did good work here.” 

“He loves Kirkwall.”

“For some reason not even the Maker understands.” Cullen laughs. “But I guess I don’t feel attached because I did not grow up here.” 

“I grew up in the Anderfels,” Amber says quietly. 

“I know,” Cullen says, looking at her profile as she keeps staring at the sky. “I asked Varric about you.”

“Did you.” It’s more a statement than a question, Amber’s heart beating wlidly in her chest. This is it, this is her getting to know her father, and it feels like like betrayal than she thought it would. She doesn’t know how Anders would feel about Ser Cullen’s influence in her life, but Amber hopes he understands that she  _ needs  _ this, needs some closure on the topic of family after being denied one for so long. 

“Yes. He was not… very helpful. Told me to ask you myself, if I wanted to know something.” 

“What do you want to know?”

“I do not know, exactly. Tell me about the Anderfels - I’ve never been there, myself.”

So Amber talks, until the sun sets and the lights around Kirkwall go out. They stand there for hours, only moving when their legs begin to ache, and then sitting down on a bench on Hightown’s market square. They don’t talk about family, conveniently ignore the reason as to why they’re doing this to begin with in favour of having a pleasant conversation. 

It works. Better than Amber expected. 

*

Bags are packed and already loaded onto the ship, Cullen, Dahlia, and Freyja almost ready to leave. Varric and Amber are seeing them off at the docks, saying their goodbyes, some more heartfelt than others. Varric jokes about them having to come back or he’ll give away their house - they never use it anyway, he complains, and Dahlia promises they will make the trip to Kirkwall more often now. Her eyes flicker to Amber for just a second, and they all ignore the air of awkwardness that settles over them. 

Cullen is the last to say goodbye to her, the others leaving them some space and turning their backs to not intrude on their time. He steps forward and hesitantly hugs her, drawing her against his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin, letting his hands run through her curls like Anders had so often done before. It feels different, hugging him - he’s taller, more muscular, the body of a warrior where Anders had been soft. 

“It was nice meeting you, little bird,” Cullen whispers against the top of her head, stepping away but keeping his hands on her shoulders. He smiles at her, stroking over her cheek when Amber won’t reciprocate, too torn up to even attempt to put up a mask of nonchalance. 

She doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing, watches as Cullen walks over to the ship, waving one last time before stepping on board. She waves back, sees him smile once more before they turn around and make their way under deck. 

Amber is still standing at the docks as the ship gets smaller and smaller on the horizon, her heart clenching in her chest. She should have said more, told him that she’ll miss him and that she wants to get to know him better. That the time they had spent getting to know one another had been to short, and that she’s sick of not having enough time with her family. 

But he’s coming back, they had promised. And so Amber turns around and walks home, knowing that next summer, she’ll get her chance.

  
And she’s not going to let it get away, this time.


End file.
